


Yes, No, Maybe

by A_M_Kelley



Category: Bandom, They Might Be Giants
Genre: Awkwardness, Best Friends, Declarations Of Love, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Friendship/Love, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_M_Kelley/pseuds/A_M_Kelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the first time this has happened and it won't be the last, but John will always be there for his dear friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, No, Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> I've been recently inspired to write some TMBG fic and decided to have a go at it. I shamelessly quote "Boss Of Me" (see title) and I might also write more for these two in the future because I just love them <3 They're two of my favorite Johns in the world :)

He shouldn't have been all that surprised when he got the call to come down to the local bar to collect his over zealous and awkward friend. It's beyond John why his friend would go to the bar without him, then again, Flansburgh had been rather busy. He was busy right now but his bandmate, John Linnell, needed him more. So, to much of John's chagrin, he had to go down there and see if John was alright.

By the time Flansburgh got there Linnell was sitting on the curb with his jacket tugged around him. Linnell's head hung down limply, exposing his long pale neck, and for a few moments Flansburgh actually thought he might be asleep. As John approached closer the other John twisted his heavy head around to look pitifully up at him, smiling weakly at him.

"Flansy!" Linnell exclaims with half hearted slur, reaching his lazy arms out in a gesture to be pulled up. Flansburgh walks around John to pull him up on his feet. "So glad you came..."

"Couldn't just leave you, could I?"

It's not that John Linnell is an alcoholic, he doesn't have any addicting vices to speak of, he just gets bored easily.

John is teetering on his skinny legs and he's flailing about with long awkward limbs as he clings to his sober bandmate. It's times like these when John F. has to wonder how a lightweight like his good friend John L. can put away so much alcohol, having been wasted since his second drink. It's beyond both of the Johns how they even manage to make it home when one of them can't even walk properly.

Linnell is trying, in vain, to stand up on his goofy feet all by himself but the welcoming reassurance that is Flansburgh is too inviting that he can do nothing but hang onto his shoulders. Flansburgh struggles to keep the other John up, steadying the skinnier man by putting his hands on bony hips as Linnell wraps his long arms around his neck securely.

There's a moment when Linnell's cheek brushes against Flansburgh's almost by accident, but the less graceful John turns his head just enough so that his face is just inches away from Flansburgh's. His first instinct is to reel his head back but Linnell's arms are tight around his shoulders and holding Flansburgh in place. It's too close and intimate and Linnell is so close to him that Flansburgh can smell the alcohol on his hot breath.

"You've been drinking a lot tonight, haven't you John?" Flansburgh asks on a nervous chuckle when his good friend John doesn't pull away.

John just stares at him with glazed eyes, contemplating the other John's words.

"Yes... No... Maybe?" Linnell says after a moment, goofy smile spreading across his face as he chuckles to himself. "I don't know..."

Linnell grips tighter onto his friend's shoulders, pressing his body impossibly close and uncaring of how close their faces are to each other. Right now Linnell isn't scared of saying anything stupid and he isn't self conscious of his hot whiskey breath. All he can concentrate on is John and the warmth of his solid body keeping him from falling down.

"I'm so cold, John," Linnell mumbles out on a teeth chattering shiver that makes him want to melt into John F. "Don't let me fall..."

The inebriated state of his friend is enough to tug at John Flansburgh's heart in a tangle of pity and remorse, but something warm is behind the pleading look in those big brown eyes of John Linnell. Trust. John Flansburgh can feel how tight John Linnell is clinging to him and his jacket. He's afraid of falling down but John knows Flansburgh would never drop him. Not on purpose at least. So John L. holds on with all the energy he has left.

"I won't let you fall," Flansburgh reassures him, and it's the truth, wrapping an arm around Linnell's slender waist to heft him up a little. "I'm gonna get you back to my place, okay? That sound good?"

"Thank you," Linnell whispers with a smile, letting his head drop back as he turns to sling one arm over the expanse of John's shoulders.

Flansburgh's apartment isn't that far from where they are but seeing how Linnell can barely stand up on his own it takes them a while. All the way back to his apartment Flansburgh tugs and makes sure his friend is still conscious, steadying him with all his strength will allow and it's one heck of a workout but John doesn't mind too much.

"Hey, John?" Linnell asks in a far off tone full of shivers and slurs.

"Yes, John?"

Linnell stops trying to walk entirely and this makes Flansburgh turn to him expectantly. John Linnell just stares at him for the longest moment, studying the calm lines of John's face and the glare from streetlights on his glasses. Linnell's mouth tugs to one side in a half smile seconds before he stumbles into Flansburgh's space and kisses him awkwardly on the lips. It's off center at best and perhaps a little bitter from the alcohol staining John Linnell's lips, but it's warm and hopeful and almost seems right.

At first Flansburgh is shocked and almost sure that it was an accident but when Linnell collects himself enough to stand back the same goofy half smile is still etched across his face.

"I love you, man," Linnell tells Flansburgh ardently, finding the courage in alcohol to finally speak his mind.

John Flansburgh is genuinely stunned. He doesn't know whether to take his friend seriously or not. If it's just the booze talking or his true feelings... Or both?

"I love you too," Flansburgh chuckles nervously instead, grinning uncertainly as a strange warmth washes over him.

John Flansburgh flirts with the thought of how it would feel if his good friend John had kissed him properly and sober. He wonders where exactly that kiss came from and why, but the thought comes and goes in a flash as Linnell's body quakes from the cold night air of New York.

He pulls John Linnell closer by the waist, trying once again to get back into the rhythm and pace they had going. It's not too awfully late, just a quarter past ten, and the streets of New York are relatively calm for the most part. It's not really a bad neighborhood but neither John is in a condition to protect themselves from a mugging, so getting Linnell back to his place safely is Flansburgh's top priority.

When they do finally get to John Flansburgh's apartment John Linnell has sobered up a little by now and has loosened his grip a little but even as he's set down on Flansburgh's couch his hands don't entirely leave the other John's shoulders. After a moment John Flansburgh has to pry off his friend's hands so he can get a pillow and blanket for him to set up a makeshift bed on the sofa for the night.

It's not the first time this has happened and it won't be the last, but John will always be there for his dear friend.

John Flansburgh pushes the other John back gently to lay him down on the sofa when his body doesn't cooperate correctly and pulls off Linnell's shoes before tugging his spare comforter around his friend's skinny and shaken form. The shivering has long since stopped but John Linnell looks like he's just finally getting truly comfortable, snuggling himself into Flansburgh's less than mediocre sofa. But John doesn't complain. There's a million questions Flansburgh wants to ask him, but John is already wrapped up in a cocoon of sleep and security.

He figures all this will make more sense over coffee in the morning when John is more sober anyway.


End file.
